


Lonely (Where Jellyfish Come From)

by TechnicalMachine



Series: Stick Together [2]
Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Character Study, Companion Piece, Gen, I don't actually know how to describe it, Minon's Perspective, Well - Freeform, don't worry he's fine, fine may be a strong word, maybe? - Freeform, the major character death isn't Minion for people who are new to the series, to Stick Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24739906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnicalMachine/pseuds/TechnicalMachine
Summary: "If Minion's vocabulary had been properly equipped at the time, he would've describe Mr. Scott as 'whipped.' Unfortunately, the only place he could've learned the word was from the man himself, who was in vehement denial about it."A companion piece to Stick Together. If you were wondering about Minion during his and Megamind/Sheldon/Syx's separation, here's your answer.
Relationships: Minion & Lord Scott, minor Minion & Megamind
Series: Stick Together [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788937
Comments: 19
Kudos: 59





	1. Nobody Told Me It Would Be Lonely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cps2015](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cps2015/gifts), [Shizuku749](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shizuku749/gifts), [somecrappyclone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somecrappyclone/gifts), [UniverseBestPotato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseBestPotato/gifts).



> This one actually has been a long time coming, haha. I started writing it right after Stick Together went up and have been slowly picking at it since then. It's harder to write when you have to work around another story, it turns out! My motivation came and went, but the story itself stuck with me. Which is good because if it hadn't, I wouldn't have written it down!  
> I hope you enjoy it.

At his wife's request, Lord Scott had transported all signs of his adopted sons' alien origins to the basement, including a bizarre little fish.

<*>

Minion felt he'd finally gotten a handle on this "talking" thing. It wasn't actually all that difficult to learn since the man who lived here was constantly talking to himself as he worked. Minion peeked around the corner of the rock and stared at the man. He knew his name was Scott, and from the sound of the phone calls he sometimes had, that was his last name. Minion wasn't very fond of first names, so he'd already forgotten Mr. Scott's. If he ever knew it. He wondered if that was a bad thing, or maybe he shouldn't use the man's name at all? Feeling the beginning of some serious overthinking, Minion forced himself to leave the safety of his hideout and approach the glass of his tank.

"Excuse me!" he called.

Mr. Scott jumped about a foot in the air and whirled around in a panic.

"Who's there?"

"Over here," Minion replied, not sure of what else to say. Mr. Scott turned toward the tank and his wide eyes fixed on Minion.

"Was that..." he gulped. "Was that you?"

Minion waved his fin in a way he meant to be friendly and reassuring, but he thought he might've missed the mark.

"Hello."

Mr. Scott approached reverently and knelt to be at eye level with Minion.

"Hi," he replied. "What's your name?" He felt kind of silly asking a fish for its name, but he couldn't think of anything better. _What do you say to a talking fish?_

"Oh. Uh, I'm Minion," Minion replied.

"A fully sentient and communicative fish," Mr. Scott murmured in awe. Minion would've blushed if he could. "How do you do that?"

"I..." Minion began. "I don't know." He bobbed in something like a sheepish shrug. He expected Mr. Scott to be disappointed, but the man just smiled at him.

"Fair enough," he replied. "I'm Robert Scott. A pleasure to meet you."

Ah, Robert. That was it. Minion filed that information away and promptly forgot it again.

"I was wondering, Mr. Scott, if you knew where I could find someone." Minion decided to get right to the point. No use wasting any more time.

"Well, I'll try my best," Mr. Scott agreed.

"I landed here with someone, but I haven't seen him since waking up." Mr. Scott frowned thoughtfully, and Minion felt his heart sink.

"Could you describe him?"

"He's small and blue and a baby." Minion ran out of descriptors. "And I'm supposed to keep him safe, but I can't do that if I don't know where he is!"

Mr. Scott was pale. Minion took that as a bad sign.

"Sorry," he replied. "Can't help you there."

<*>

Mr. Scott felt pretty guilty about lying to Minion, but what was he supposed to do?! Sally had asked him to keep all the alien stuff secret for now, and introducing him to the boys was definitely _not_ keeping it secret.

He knew that letting Minion assume Sheldon had died was a bit cold. He just couldn't think of a better lie then what the little guy had come up with himself! Still, the guilt was gnawing at him. If only there was something he could do to make it up to him...

A thought occurred to him, and he grinned.

"Hey, Minion?"

"Yes?"

"How do you feel about learning to walk?"

<*>

The upgrades on Minion's tank took precedence over whatever Mr. Scott's cryptic question was implying.

Fish food just wasn't good enough for Minion's needs. He was sweet, but at his core, he was still a predator. He needed live fish.

Mr. Scott did some research and by the end of the month, he had created a, frankly over-the-top, habitat for Minion.

The actual tank was huge. It took up most of the back wall of the basement and was full of places to hide. There were several species of prey fish for Minion to hunt (with places to safely reproduce so they never needed to be replaced), and even a cheesy castle that Minion secretly adored. The only drawback was the prey fish still needed to be fed manually, but Mr. Scott didn't really mind. Far be it from Minion to complain.

<*>

"Do you have any other abilities?" Mr. Scott asked Minion one day. "Besides talking, I mean."

"Hmm..." Minion considered the question for a moment. "Well, I used to." Mr. Scott looked up expectantly, and Minion dug through his limited knowledge of the English language for the correct words. "I had a... connection? In my brain? With my..." Minion stumbled on the word. How do you describe 'the person you were supposed to protect who died?'

Mr. Scott seemed to get what he meant.

"A psychic link?" he asked, his voice full of wonder.

"I don't what that means."

"It's just what you described!" Mr. Scott was practically vibrating with excitement. "A connection between the brains of individuals! Could you read his thoughts or...?" Mr. Scott cut off abruptly. "Is... is it okay if I ask?"

Minion blinked. He took a moment to think before bobbing his version of a nod. Mr. Scott smiled somewhat ruefully.

"What was it like?" he asked, softer than before.

"I guess I don't really know," Minion began. "I thought I'd feel different with him gone, but most of the time I'm the same. Just sometimes I get..." He took a moment to gather his words. "Less logical? I rely more on my instincts, I guess."

"Huh," Mr. Scott said.

"I think he's supposed to keep me from doing that," Minion concluded.

"And you helped him too?" Mr. Scott asked.

"I guess so," Minion replied. "I was told a few things about it. Like, when we got bigger, the range was supposed to get bigger too." Minion did his version shrug.

"Fascinating."

<*>

If Minion's vocabulary had been properly equipped at the time, he would've described Mr. Scott as "whipped." Unfortunately, the only place he could've learned the word was from the man himself, who was in vehement denial about it.

The man loved his wife more than just about anything, and he was willing to defer to her on all matters but mechanical and electrical. She was old money, and much more knowledgeable about how high-society life worked. Mr. Scott was more of the "build-crazy-inventions-in-the-basement" type, which happened to be how he spent most of his time. And made most of his money.

There was only one thing Mr. Scott ever did that his wife didn't approve of, and that was rejoining the military.

"There wasn't even a war back then," he'd said. "Now there's actually someone to fight against. And someone to fight for."

"Oh?" Minion replied. He knew by now that when Mr. Scott was about to start going on about his wife and sons, it was best to just play along. He'd just have to hope he didn't start talking about the gala again.

"I was still in the military when I met my wife," he began with a dreamy sigh. "At a gala promoting one of my inventions. Her dad was my main source of funding, you know."

Minion bit back a groan and gave a convincing facsimile of an encouraging nod. _Storytime again_ , he supposed.

"Yes, he'd put together this party in hopes of getting some additional funding. Something about 'not putting your eggs in a basket.' I had to wear this awful tux and talk to a bunch of snooty jerks who didn't actually care about what I had to say." Mr. Scott frowned at the memory. He shook his head violently as if to dislodge the thought. "I was sure it was all a waste of time, but then..."

Minion actually did groan here, but Mr. Scott either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I met her. As soon as we spoke, I knew she was different. Genuine. An intelligent, witty, beautiful person who didn't wear a polite mask for anyone who she saw as undeserving of her respect. I fell in love instantly." Mr. Scott let out another dreamy sigh. The first time he'd told this story, Minion had listened with rapt attention. He'd found it incredibly sweet and romantic.

This was the fifteenth time, and he'd recognized the bias in it by this point. Mrs. Scott never even came to see what Mr. Scott was working on; Minion had never seen her.

"And the boys! They're incredible!"

Minion perked up. He found Mr. Scott's sons to be an infinitely more interesting topic of conversation. Mrs. Scott only ever did, like, three things, but a couple of rowdy five-year-olds? Endless entertainment. Minion wished he could meet them, but Mr. Scott had already explained that the concept of life beyond their planet was kind of a big thing for a small child to grasp. Mrs. Scott had apparently insisted it wait until they were older.

"Wayne is so excitable. He's always on the move! I have to wonder where Sheldon finds the energy to keep up. And Sheldon! That boy is a little genius! He's built things I never would've thought possible at his age." Mr. Scott continued to ramble about his sons as he carefully measured a curve onto a schematic.

Minion settled back into his little castle and listened. It was calming, hearing Mr. Scott ramble on, and he felt content to listen and ignore the small part of him that insisted that he didn't deserve this after his failure. He'd gotten pretty good at that.

<*>

Minion would be lying if he said he wasn't sad to see Mr. Scott go. The man had been his only company for years, and he had to admit he would miss him.

It didn't help that Mr. Scott hadn't been able to finish Minion's present in time. Mr. Scott had been so excited about it, telling Minion that as soon as he finished, he'd be able to introduce him to the boys and maybe even get him into school. Minion could practically feel the guilt radiating off him as he talked.

"My wife will come down here every day to feed the prey fish. The boys aren't allowed, so there's no risk of them accidentally interfering with the tank's functionality. As long as nothing is tampered with, you should be fine while I'm gone." His rambling lost steam, and he sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, and Minion didn't have to ask what he meant.

"It's alright," he said. Mr. Scott shook his head.

"I promise I'll finish it when I get back." He looked guiltily at the almost finished pile of metal in the corner. Minion only vaguely knew its purpose, and Mr. Scott hadn't wanted to spoil the surprise by explaining.

"I can wait," Minion assured him. "I'm very patient." Mr. Scott smiled and nodded.

"I'd better go," he said, picking up his bag, "I've got a plane to catch."

<*>

If Minion hadn't picked up Mr. Scott's habit of talking to himself, he probably would've forgotten how to speak entirely.

Mrs. Scott never spoke to him when she came downstairs, and he was reluctant to try and start a conversation himself. She always seemed so preoccupied. _Maybe she's worried,_ Minion thought. He was too, though he tried to ignore it most days.

Lately, he spent more time hunting than strictly necessary. He tried not to eat more than he needed, but he dragged out the process in an effort to kill time. He hadn't realized just how much of his day was spent talking with Mr. Scott. Part of him was a little bitter about his inability to interact with the other occupants of the house, but he buried the feeling. It made him feel ungrateful.

The days continued like this for a while, though Minion didn't keep track of how many passed. Then Mrs. Scott missed a day.

It was strange. Minion briefly thought that she'd finally gotten sick of the extra chore. But she'd never skipped it before, reluctant as she seemed. He couldn't help but worry, and not just for himself.

Yes, if she never came back, the prey fish would die out, which would be very bad for Minion. But he couldn't imagine her abandoning him to that without a reason. Surely she would've done so already if she was going to. Something must've happened.

Minion was extra careful not to eat too much that day. Just in case.

<*>

He needn't have worried, it turned out.

Mrs. Scott returned the next day. She seemed different in some way Minion couldn't place. For a moment, he regretted not speaking to her before. Maybe if he'd gotten to know her better, he'd know what was wrong.

Mrs. Scott fed the prey fish as normal, and they swarmed the food greedily. She stared blankly at them through the aquarium glass before slowly dropping her forehead to the cool surface. She closed her eyes, and even from his hiding place, Minion could see the tears welling up in them.

"He's gone," she whispered.

Minion flinched.

Mrs. Scott stood there for a few seconds more before taking a deep breath, collecting herself, and making her way upstairs.

<*>

After a few years, Minion got used to being his own company. Mrs. Scott still didn't speak to him, and it had occurred to him by then that she probably didn't even know he was capable of speech. He spared her the shock.

The boys never came to the basement, and Minion inferred that they were still banned from it. Without Mr. Scott to push for allowing them at some point, Mrs. Scott had likely kept that rule in place. He wondered how old they were now. How much time had passed?

He heard the basement door creak open and froze. That couldn't be Mrs. Scott, could it? She'd already been there today, he was sure of that.

For one wild moment, he wondered if Mr. Scott had somehow returned and things would go back to normal. He quashed that hope quickly. Minion was an optimist, not an idiot. People don't just come back from the dead.

A thud pulled him from his thoughts and his hiding place. He moved to the front of the tank to try and identify the source of the sound.

"Sheldon! Are you okay?"

Minion frowned. _Sheldon?_ he thought. _Isn't that Mr. Scott's son?_ Before he had time to follow that train of thought, the basement lights came on and he found himself staring at a face he thought he'd never see again.

_"MINION!"_


	2. Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Minion wasn't mad. He wasn't. Why would he be? After all, he wasn't the one who'd been tricked into thinking he murdered his own brother...
> 
> Okay, so he was a little mad"
> 
> Minion's perspective on Wayne's faked death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a scene I'd wanted to include in Stick Together, but couldn't really make fit. Still, I couldn't really get it out of my head. That said, this chapter is completely optional. Feel free to ignore it if it doesn't fit with how you see things!
> 
> Also, Minion doesn't really like first names in this, so he refers to Syx as "Sir" and Wayne as "Other Sir." For a while, he didn't know what to call Wayne, because he'd already called his dad "Mr. Scott" and at first, they weren't that close. Over time he started caring as much about him as he does Syx, so he started calling him "Sir" as well out loud, but in his head, he's "Other Sir." Confused yet? Cuz I sure am, and I wrote the dang thing!

Other Sir was fine, and Minion wasn't mad. He wasn't. Why would he be? After all, he wasn't the one who'd been tricked into thinking he'd _murdered his own brother._ Sure, it hurt a bit that Other Sir would go behind his and Sir's backs like that, but _Sir_ had been way more hurt by it. And, yes, that bothered Minion in and of itself, but that didn't mean he was _mad_ about it.

Okay, so maybe he was a little mad, but he sure wasn't going to say anything now. Sir had handled it, Other Sir had learned his lesson, and, really, Minion would only make things worse. It was over. No use dwelling on it.

Minion kept reminding himself of that when the hurt would flair up. _He's alive,_ he'd think. _That's all that matters._

His head knew that, but his heart wasn't fully convinced. The initial relief he'd felt at seeing Other Sir unharmed had cooled into a strange and uncomfortable mixture of happiness and anger. Minion kept a tight lid on it, though, all through Sir's plan, the Tighten Incident, and Lady Scott's sudden reappearance.

It wasn't until a while after movie night that he finally broke.

He and Other Sir had been chatting in the otherwise unoccupied living room when the topic came up.

"To be honest, I thought you or Syx were going to murder me for that," Other Sir said. Minion tilted his "head" in confusion. "The whole 'retirement' thing," he clarified.

"Oh, of course not," Minion replied. He may have been a bit too quick, though, as Other Sir seemed suddenly suspicious.

"Really? You're not even a _little_ angry?"

If Minion could sweat, he would've then.

"No?" He silently cursed himself for sounding so uncertain. Other Sir frowned.

"You know, you're allowed to be upset, Minion," he said. "That was a pretty shitty thing I did." Minion blinked. That strange discomfort welled up again, and, just for a moment, he attempted to hold it back. Then the dam broke.

"Okay, I'm a little annoyed," he admitted. Other Sir seemed unsurprised, and he nodded encouragingly for Minion to continue. "We'd been working on ways to retire Metro Man, and then you went behind our backs like that? We thought we'd lost you! Sir thought he _killed_ you! But I was just so relieved you were okay, and then Sir got really mad and I figured you felt bad enough so I didn't say anythingbutthenIjustfelt _worse_ and-"

"Whoa, Minion!" Other Sir interrupted. "Breathe!"

Minion nodded and took a few deep breaths. He felt... good. Lighter than he had felt in weeks, though that might have been the lack of oxygen.

"You good?"

Minion bobbed his version of a nod.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"That's my line," Other Sir replied. "I'd been so focused on Syx and how he was feeling, I kind of ignored you. Especially since you didn't seem angry when you found out. That's no excuse, of course."

"It doesn't matter," Minion assured him. "You already learned your lesson."

"Of course it matters!" Other Sir argued, and Minion was surprised by how upset he seemed. "You're my family, and I hurt you, and I never even properly apologized for it. That's not fair, and you deserve better."

Minion froze, argument lost. He hadn't thought of it that way; he'd been so focused on his Sirs, he hadn't really considered how he fit into it. It hadn't occurred to him that he might also deserve an apology.

"I'm sorry, Minion." Other Sir said, snapping Minion out of his thoughts. Minion blinked. He felt the anger drain out of him, replaced with his usual fondness for his family. A smile slowly lit up his face.

"Apology accepted."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, not my favourite writing I've done for this series, but sometimes an awkward conversation can't be made un-awkward. Minion may have seemed a bit too forgiving, but he'd been pretty sick of holding onto that anger. He would've let go of it sooner if he'd known how. Bottling it up definitely made things worse for him.
> 
> Anyway, I think that's it for Stick Together for a while. I may come back to it later (there are a couple of characters I may want to explore), but for now, the main story is finished. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to cps2015, UniverseBestPotato, somecrapyclone, and Shizuku749 for their lovely comments that gave me enough motivation (and self-inflicted guilt, haha) to finish this. I really appreciate every single comment I get, and I hope that everyone who wanted more of this story enjoyed reading this one. I went back and forth on the gifting of this story, but I eventually decided that it was only right since, without their comments, this story wouldn't exist. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading. Hmu in the comments if you have anything you want to know about the au, if you have constructive criticism, or you just wanna say hi. Comments are a fanfic writer's lifeblood.


End file.
